Drunk
by Katherine Quinn
Summary: Memories she'd never forget assaulted Olivia Benson. She tried to push them away, but when they get to be too much, can anyone help her? A/O Spoilers for Undercover
1. Feel Of Steel

After a car wreck, once you're safe; a little beaten up maybe but no longer in danger, you're left to figure out what happened. Wide eyed and confused, there are details that need to be pieced together. There are facts that have to be ascertained. People want to hear about how you've survived. They want to know how it's possible that you made it out of the giant twist of metal that lies in front of them in the street. There were a series of things that had to occur for you to go from tooling along happily in your car to sitting on the side of the road trying to remember where you left your driver's license and insurance card. There were moments where you had choices, and each little moment added together to get you to where you are right now.

It's only in retrospect can you see the things that led you to that moment. While they're happening, they speed by, the important markers that later scream warnings to you aren't clear until the disaster has already happened. You know the whole time that you were an active participant in everything. You were part of the madness. How Olivia Benson's life got off track was the same as that collision. The same screeching tires, burning rubber, and heap of twisted metal marked her unhappy decline.

She knew she had been there the whole time. She had been in the driver's seat and now that she looked back, she could see the moments that led her to stare at the wreckage of her life. She wished, more than anything, that she could go back and fix it. She wished that she had the strength left to change the signs.

But when it was happening? If you asked her how it happened while her life was flying by her? How she had actually ended up sitting there with a beautiful woman across from her begging her with tears to stop her own self destruction and change? She couldn't tell you how she had ended up at this pathetic point, sitting here alone in the dark. She couldn't tell you how she got here at all. Honestly, she didn't even remember.

Of course, the things she did remember she wished she could forget. The incidents that started it were clear in her mind. The dank smell of the basement combined with the smell of sweat. In her ears, the sounds of her shoulders hitting the wall behind her echoed. The pressure of him tight against her and she struggled to breathe against the weight. The realization that this was it: there was nowhere else to go. His face flashed through her mind at the worst times, making her push away and retreat into her own private hell without a moment's notice.

She would feel herself disconnect, like the flick of a light switch, she would be gone. A sickening numbness came over her, her brain taking her back to that minute, her senses tricking her into high alert as what happened around her stopped so she could react to the trauma. She realized that without any warning she was there again and the worst parts were playing in her mind, over and over. She may not be in physical danger but her brain had never left its tortured state and it reminded her of all the things she wished to never recall. That day had started to mix with the millions of other things she had seen that she wished she could forget.

They were all there, dancing in her head: the victims, the death, the humiliation, the pain. She could lace herself into and out of crimes she had seen, identifying now too closely with the feelings of the victims. She saw herself everywhere, in every horrible instance, and knew how close she was, making the twisting feeling in her stomach crippling and the pounding of her heartbeat in her ears the only things in the world that mattered to her.

And as much as she tried, she couldn't talk about it. Not like they wanted her to. The counselor's were fine, but they couldn't understand what she saw. The feelings that were there weren't transferrable into words. No matter what she shared, there was an inadequacy to what others could understand. The groups she sat through addressed some of the issues, but she couldn't talk to other victims about things she knew. They didn't want to hear about nightmares she had not only about her own assault, but the assaults of so many others. She felt guilty for being there—guilty for taking up the space. She wanted it to just go away, and she held her breath waiting for it to be over. They were patient with her but it didn't make the feelings go away. Talking about it didn't make her stop her from waking up screaming; it just presented her with another opportunity to relive the trauma.

And then there was Elliot. She could talk to him, and he understood. She tried, looking into his blue eyes she could see the words dancing behind his eyes. "Victim." "Weak." "Broken." She hated herself for it. And more over, she hated him for thinking them. Since that night in the basement, she could barely stand to look him in the eye. The things that had happened, she never wanted to share with him. She didn't want him to see her weakness, she wanted to be the same strong partner he had always known and after being handled by him like she was going to break, she knew she could never speak to him again.

And then Alex came back. She had never expected—never hoped, and never thought it would ever happen. What were the chances? Olivia had finally accepted her loss and grieved her absence, realizing the chances that she would ever see the beautiful blonde again were nearly zero, and then? They fell back into each other with the same passion they had before she had left.

She hated how much she could love her one minute, exquisite perfect bliss filling her heart and soul, and then hate her, with the full fury of hell filling her sights and anger pounding through her and pouring out of her mouth and soul. She shuddered as fears of abandonment and intense pain coursed through her and mess with her head.

Alex Cabot was the one person who pulled her to the extremes. Olivia had spent so much of her life practicing her performance. She walked carefully down the middle of the road and didn't let herself feel anything too intense in her personal life. When she started to walk too close to the side, she ran from whatever pulled her. She was good at it, hell, she was a professional. She had spent her whole life practicing the façade.

Maybe that's why Alex threw her so badly. She pulled her to extremes she wasn't used to feeling. Images of Alex Cabot walking into the station that first day filled her head. An ethereal halo of light shined around her as the sound of her heels provided a light staccato rhythm against the linoleum floor. She extended her hand and Olivia swallowed hard. Her defenses flew up and she protected herself the best way she knew how—she used her mouth to push her back and disarm her.

In the weeks that came, the two sized each other up. As Olivia stared into the ice blue eyes, she felt a bubbling dislike for the young blonde run through her. She was too damn pretty. She was too damn forceful. She was too damn challenging. She was so full of herself. She hated this woman more rabidly and fiercely than she had hated anyone in recent memory. That should have been her first clue she was falling in love.

Olivia's hate had slowly become desire. She had learned to need Alex. She had learned to rely on her. She had found something in her that she could trust. She found her oxygen supply in Alex's presence. Each fight dragged them deeper into each other, each angry word drew them closer together until one day their passion exploded into a mind blowing asphyxiating kiss that took both of them by surprise.

They stepped away from each other, both questioning, then realizing that it hadn't been a mistake. It had been real. They had finally fallen into each other

And now? They had fallen again. Olivia could talk to Alex, and Alex didn't treat her like a victim. Alex listened and watched. Alex didn't judge. That was until Olivia had started using a crutch to keep the feelings back and everything at a bearably numb and distant level. Alex's reminders, her worry, her warnings, and finally her ultimatums had pushed Olivia back. She had pretended to cycle back to her hatred but instead her heart bled for Alexandra Cabot and the hole that she had left in Olivia's life. Olivia knew that what had happened between them was her own fault. She knew that she was the reason that Alex was gone. She knew that only she could change it, but for the one thing she loved more than anything or anyone.

Not every story ends happily. Olivia had seen too many that hadn't. She could list names and places. There were too many times she'd been seconds too late. There was the time when she had been so close herself. Olivia sat in their now empty apartment that was full of their old laughter. She looked at the places their tears had pulled them apart. She saw the places where Alex's ultimatums had turned Olivia's heart solidly against her. There was a time when Olivia loved Alex so much; she knew she could conquer the world. Now, the dawn didn't break with the same bright colors and she was forced to live in black and white. The gray's helped to remind her of what she had and what she lost.

She frowned into the pool of liquid in her hand and felt the cold heaviness in her other. It seemed easier to just end it. "It's not an out; you don't know that it works." She hears the words in her head, words she's used before to talk others down. She took another sip of her courage and leaned her head back heavily against the cushion of the couch.

She knows that she can take it all away. She could do this. She could erase all this pain right now. She can live happily in the world in her mind, where Alex still smiles at her, and the addiction doesn't course through her, uncontrollable. "There is always a world out there where we'll always be together," she thought with a wry smile on her face. There will be no more twisted metal or broken dreams.

She stares at the metal in her hands and wills herself to just do it. She lifted her hand and judged its weight. She judged the finality, the pain that would seep out of her if she could just work up the courage. She let herself feel the trigger, resting her finger against it without pointing it at anything in particular. She had pulled it before. It was familiar. She would only be scared for a moment. She sighed as she let her hand go limp and laid it next to her on the couch. She stared at her other hand, full of swirling amber and smiled.

She knew the numbness it provided and she was familiar with its feeling and its comfort too. She hated it for what it stole from her, but she knew she needed it now. It was her addiction, whether she wanted it to be or not. She couldn't remember how she fell down that road either. She stared with disgust at both her hands, taking the gun and throwing it on the table.

She was a brave coward. She couldn't do it, not really. Instead, she sucked down the contents of the glass and pushed the gun across the table, refusing to let herself feel the pain that threatened to take everything else away.

To Be Continued...


	2. Lessons Learned

Lessons Learned

It had always been part of her life. Her earliest memories involved the smell of booze and a bottle as an accessory in her mother's hand. She had learned early that what came out of the bottles her mother held dear had the power to change everything. It made the difference between a good day and a bad day. When in the hands of the adults around her, it could change lives.

From her earliest memory, those bottles had helped her as she started to learn the rules. The stench of it in the air meant hide; the sight of empty bottles smashed against the wall and the wail of her mother's tears from behind a locked door meant that she should try to make herself take up as little space as possible and hope to not be noticed.

Some nights her mother would leave her alone. She would lock the door and peer out the windows watching for strangers. Turning the TV on, she would secretly flip to TV shows her mother would never let her watch, shows with men with guns who protected people who needed help. She always wondered if someone with a gun could someday come to save her and her mom.

When her mother would wander in the house with a strange man, she could smell the alcohol in the air and on both of their clothes. Those nights she would be sent to her room to play alone, her mother using a false tone that only she recognized the anger in. She could hear her mother in the next room, making noises she didn't like.

Once she had tried to rescue her mother—sure someone was hurting her. Her mother had taken her back to her room and slapped her hard. Her mother screamed at her and told her never, ever, to do that again. Her mother warned her to never to embarrass her more than she did by simply being alive. That was the last time she tried to save her mother. Her first lessons had been those of survival.

When she was seven, she had been sitting cross legged on the floor of her bedroom. Each of her Barbie dolls were shoved into a shoe, each shoe its own tank in an epic battle between good and evil. As she pushed shoes across the floor in an advancing front, she provided the sound effects as missiles in the form of Barbie shoes flew across the battlefield. Suddenly, Ken's shoe exploded under a direct hit from Stacey in Olivia's Nike. As his shoe flew into the air in a spectacular blaze of flames and shoelaces, the door to her bedroom flew open.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" Her mother screamed as she stormed into the room, forcing Olivia to push herself back against the bed. Her mother grabbed her, pulling her to her feet. "Can't I have five minutes where I don't have to listen to you? You're too old for this make believe shit. Can't you just fucking shut up?"

Olivia's feet dangled off the floor as her mother screamed at her the smell of the alcohol coming from her breath. Warm tears fell down her face as she apologized, honestly not sure what she was apologizing for. Her lesson: be silent.

When she was eleven, she knew the drill. She was already responsible for herself and while pulling herself onto the shelf to search the cupboard for food, she found one of her mother's empty bottles. It was already her job to take the bottles to the trash, her mother had rules about when and how they were to be taken out. Once Olivia had tried to drag a whole bag down, one that was too heavy for her and a neighbor had seen her and tried to help. Thinking about it, Olivia shuddered as she recalled her mother's punishment. She blamed Olivia for embarrassing her on purpose. She should have known better. Her lesson that day had been in discretion.

Now Olivia stared into the empty bottle in her hand. It wasn't the first time she had found one, not by far. Instead of throwing it out, she examined it. She sat on the counter and stared at it. Leaning over the sink, she poured water into the bottle and swirled it around. Staring at it through the light of the window, she pushed herself off the counter and wandered down the hall to her bedroom. Sitting on her bed, she took a big gulp from the bottle. Feeling grown up, she turned and looked with anger at the teddy bear on her bed. "Don't you ever shut up?" She yelled at it, pushing it off the bed. She smiled. It felt good to be in charge. That day, she learned that maybe those bottles held control in them after all.

When she was 13, she took a bottle of her mother's vodka from under the bathroom sink. She had so many, Olivia realized she had no idea where they were or how many she had at any one time. Half full bottles littered the house, and at any given moment, Olivia knew she could find more than ten in any given room. Snagging the bottle and heading for the street, she met up with some friends from junior high. In an alley, they cracked the bottle open. All of them congratulated Olivia on her ability to get the booze—one of the girls looked at her with admiration all over her face, "My mother would kill me."

Olivia shrugged, not saying that her mother was too drunk to notice. She was suddenly accepted into this group she had so desperately wanted to belong to. Always alone, she was surrounded by friends. Each of them tasted it, each grimacing as the liquid touched their tongues and burned its way down their throat. Olivia took the bottle and swallowed as much as she could before needing a breath. The burn was intense, but there was a warmth that flushed over her whole body. Maybe this is what she wanted her whole life. Maybe this was the fix. Maybe this was her way out. Out of her life, out of her mind. As they drank more, she could feel it. That day she learned there were some problems that alcohol could fix.

At fifteen her mother caught her sneaking the booze. Alone in her room, she sipped from the bottle, her head resting back against her bed, her headphones blaring in her ears. She thought about feelings she was worried she should never have about a girl on her softball team. She had a boyfriend, a nice enough guy, but when she closed her eyes at night it wasn't his face that danced behind her lids. The alcohol numbed the pain, it took away the thoughts she shouldn't think, and it made everything okay. When she drank, it was okay that she was made up entirely of flaws stitched together only with good intentions. The flaws weren't so ugly anymore and she could almost stand to see them. This was her rebellion. It was a new door opening up to her.

She didn't hear the door move. As her mother pushed into the room she didn't even have time to try to hide the bottle in her hand.

"I knew you'd be drinking my alcohol you bitch." She screamed.

"Fuck you, mom." She said pushing herself to her feet. She had bolted to her window, down the fire escape. Pushing herself to escape her mother's angry charge, she almost made it all the way down. If she hadn't been quite so drunk, she probably wouldn't have fallen those last few feet and wouldn't have had to sit out the rest of the basketball season because of her sprained ankle. Her lesson: alcohol had consequences.

What she made was a close friend. No matter what she felt, when she felt, she had learned a way to handle the feelings. Alcohol gave her an escape that nothing else in her life had. She was never her mother—she never hurt anyone. She just liked the buzz, liked the easy laughter and the feeling of freedom. She liked being about to not feel on command. After all, she knew she was always in control. That's what was most important, that she was always in control


	3. Easy Going

**Easy Going**

"You ready?" Olivia asked him, coat in hand, swinging a scarf around her neck, watching as Elliot typed the last few lines of a report and hit the print key. He pulled the report off the printer and stared at it, while she stared at him, puffing her hair out of her eyes.

"Umm, yeah." Elliot said, watching her. They were headed out to O'Malley's, somewhere he most desperately did not want to go. He had done everything he could to stall their departure, including breaking out the dictionary, which almost made Olivia throw herself on the floor like a child. He didn't want to drink tonight, more importantly, he did not want Olivia to drink tonight.

"So let's go," she said, shifting from one foot to the other, eyeing him impatiently. Elliot stood slowly, watching her.

"You going to take it easy tonight?" He asked, as he threw the memo down on his desk, grabbed his coat, and they headed to the door. He considered throwing himself down the stairs to slow their progress, but realized with his luck, he'd be dead and she'd step over his body and continue to the bar.

"Don't start with me, Elliot." She warned him. "I'm fine."

"Liv, I'm just worried about you." He said.

"I'm fine." She said again taking the lead to the car, walking with a determination in her step that he hated.

"You've been drinking."

"Not yet," She said with a smile over her shoulder at him.

"Olivia." He reached for her arm, trying to turn her to get her to look into his eyes.

She pulled his arm out of his grasp. "I'm an adult, Elliot. I have it under control."

"Do you?" He asks.

"Yes, Daddy, anything else?" She said, over her shoulder looking at him rolling her eyes.

"Liv, come on, don't be like that."

"Like what?" She asked.

"You know."

"No I don't," She said.

"You've just been, you know, hitting it a little hard recently." He said, choosing his words as carefully as he could.

"I'm a big girl." She said, as she slid into the car and slammed the door shut leaving him standing on the sidewalk alone. He bit his lip as another opportunity slid away from him. He'd been watching as she had folded into herself—as she broke away from everyone around her. Alex had been shot, and after, it was as if Olivia's life had stopped in that moment, right along with Alex's .

When Alex had been there, Elliot had no idea that Olivia's emotions for the blonde had run so deeply. He thought, every once in awhile, that he would see something there but he always wrote it off as his imagination. But then, after the van pulled away and he was left holding a person he hardly knew, the pieces started to fall into place. They had been flirting in secret, dates that he had never heard about, sharing only pieces of themselves before she was gone.

He had tried to help her. At first he watched her mourn, a faraway look in her eyes that he couldn't cross. He would try to talk about it, but she would shut down. Then he watched her self-medicate. Every morning, she'd show up red eyed and exhausted. He had begged her to stop—to talk to him. To talk to anyone. When that didn't work, he threatened her. He would tell Cragen. He would tell IAB. He would tell someone something. She called his bluff.

He tried to bargain with her, and she answered him the same way each time. She had it under control. So, he watched her carefully and he sat back and watched as she drank herself senseless. He didn't want her to push him away entirely.

He was always watching for any sign that she was drinking at work, but he never found one. He had felt an incredible sense of guilt as he searched her desk drawers, checking when he knew she wouldn't see. He felt guilty when he would lean into her to smell her breath, when he would watch her eyes to judge whether or not she was entirely there.

Perhaps, she was only self destructive off the clock but that didn't mean he didn't worry about her. Her sad expression haunted him, whether she wanted to talk about it or not.

For her part, she ignored his worry because she knew what she was doing. She knew it she didn't have a problem and she didn't need his or anyone else's help. Alcohol was a medicine she had used all her life. It provided a relief that couldn't be found in her tears or her anger. She had let the tears flow for weeks after Alex had left, waiting for the therapeutic effect to take hold, but the pain got deeper. When she was angry, she pounded a punching bag in the gym, her whole body behind her slamming fists until she couldn't stand, and when she was done, she was still angry.

She couldn't shake the feelings, they were endless, and she wasn't strong enough, and she took the first drink. It provided forgiveness. The second let her forget it was her fault that Alex wasn't there. The third helped her forget the way Alex looked, or the way she smelled, or the way she felt. She could finally numb the pain in her chest when she thought of her name or when she saw someone in the street that, for a brief instant, she thought, just maybe, could be Alex in the flesh, but never was. Then when she could forget, she could drink to the things that were gone. The pieces of Alex that had disappeared from her head were just as painful as the ones that remained, and she drank until the pain stopped and she didn't remember anymore.

She was careful. She always had her mother as a reference. She remembered vividly what that life was like. She didn't wake up with strangers; she didn't do it every day. She did it when the pain was so great that she couldn't go on anymore. She did it when she needed to forget. As long as she was never as bad as her mom, everything was in control. She could stop. She could always stop. She just didn't want to, not now, not until she didn't feel anymore.

Now, she could feel the hunger growing inside her. It became a mantra in her head that was all she could focus on, as through nothing in the world mattered right now besides the thing that she craved and needed more than she needed air. She needed that drink. It was how she had gotten through the day, the thought of the liquid in front of her, the taste, and the feel as it danced on her tongue and slid down her throat. She wanted the relief it would give her. She wanted its solace. She wanted to feel its rushing warmth and feel the wave of relaxation wave over her. She didn't care that Elliot would stand next to her counting. She didn't care about the look on his face, or the worry in his eyes. She cared about one thing only. Getting that drink.

Stepping inside the bar, both of them walked to the familiar table they claimed every week and slid into their ritually assigned spots. Olivia stared into the chair that Cabot had used to occupy on the occasion that she would join them, and pushed her chair back from the table. Not being able to stop herself, she stood and walked across the room, Elliot's eyes following her as he watched her slide up next to the bar. The bartender smiled at her, she tilted her head at him, and their brief exchange ended with a shot glass in Olivia's hand. Elliot frowned as she downed it and the bar tender refilled the glass, while she smiled at him. She downed the second shot, and the bar tender slipped two beers into her hands. She grabbed them and sauntered back to the table, slid into the seat across from him, and pushed one of the beers in front of him daring him to speak.

"Liv," he said, quietly, trying to catch her eye.

"What?" She asked, daring him with anger laced in her voice.

"What's happening with you?"

"Nothing." She said, grabbing her beer and drinking it down in gulps. He reached for it to stop her.

"Please talk to me." He begged her.

"Shut up and drink your beer," She said, leaning the chair back so she was far enough away from him that he couldn't stop her. Staring off into the corner, picking the beer up, she sucked on it until she was holding an empty bottle that she stared into vacantly.

"Liv," he said. "Alex wouldn't want you to…"

"God damn it, Elliot. Can you please fucking drop it?" She said, standing up and staring at him. "She's not fucking here and she's not coming back. I get it. Stop bringing it up." She slammed the bottle on the table between them. Walking away from him, she slammed her hand into the back of a chair as she slid back to the bar. Munch and Fin filtered in, finding their chairs. They didn't mention Olivia's absence, and she didn't acknowledge the three pairs of eyes that took turns watching her back. Elliot shook his head as he watched her slam down shots. The three of them pretended to be interested in each other's company and ignore the self destruct sequence that was going on directly behind them.

Elliot watched her until he couldn't stand it anymore. "That's six shots," Elliot said, acknowledging the thing that none of them were talking about.

Munch and Fin turned to look behind them as she demanded another shot. This one sat in front of her while she stared into it. They watched her hold her head in her hands, her body swaying just slightly. Just enough for Elliot to see.

"I'm going to go talk to her." Elliot finally said, breaking their silence.

"Man, let it go." Fin said, "You know she don't listen to you when she's like that."

"I have to try, she's going to make herself sick." he said, shrugging, knowing Fin's words were true.

"We've watched her do worse." Fin shrugged.

"You going home with her to clean her up?" Elliot asked, already knowing that he would be the one with her. Slowly making his way up to her, he slid himself onto the bar stool next to her. "Hey Liv," he said quietly.

"What the fuck do you want?" She asked. He could see her teetering on the edge of her stool, and he resisted the urge to put out his hand to steady her.

"Just to see if you're okay." He said, turning away from her and facing the bar.

"I'm fine." She said, picking up the shot and holding t unsteadily in her hands.

"Don't you think you've had…?" Elliot started to ask. He could see the fire flash behind her eyes. She was dangerously angry. He hated it when she was like this.

"Don't say it, Elliot." To punctuate her sentence she poured the shot down her throat and flashed him an angry grin.

"I'm worried about…"

"Can't you leave me the fuck alone?" She cut him off with a nasty tone to her voice. Her shoulders tensed, and she let her arms leaned hard against the bar.

"Liv," he begged.

"Elliot," she warned.

"How about we just call it a night, huh?" He said with a false smile on his face. He reached for her, giving her his hand, and she turned away from it, pushing herself up on her arms.

"I'm not done." She sneered at him.

"I think you are." He said, reaching for her arm.

"Get the fuck away from me," she warned in a low whisper.

"Olivia." He said, reaching for her. This wasn't her. This wasn't who she was. He looked into her brown eyes seeing only pain behind them. He saw her turning to him and for a minute he thought she was going to swing at him, but he realized she no longer had the balance or the coordination to manage it. Instead, he took her arm and let her sling it over his shoulder. She fell into him without a word. The fight that was in her was gone in an instant. Like so many nights before, he walked her out wrapping his arm around her waist. Without speaking, he led her home, following the steps to their own personal dance with destruction.


	4. Fallout

**Fallout**

As he sat back in the chair, staring at the bed that contained his best friend, he swore at himself for letting it get this bad. He should have known how out of control this was. Carrying his stumbling partner into her apartment tonight and depositing her on the bed, fighting with her as she tried to pull a bottle out from her bedside stand, he finally took the time to actually look around. He was disgusted at the number of empty bottles he found, not to mention the number of half full ones he found stashed in the cabinets and as a collection on the coffee table in her living room. She lay back on the bed telling him stories about how much she missed Alex's soft lips on hers.

He could hear the pain in her voice when she slurred apologies to him that she wouldn't remember in the morning. The tears that fell down her face hurt him, knowing the emotions that poured out of her drunk were ones that she wouldn't express sober. He listened to her sob into her pillow with an intensity that he didn't realize she possessed. He sat beside her and put his hand on her back as she cried herself into a semi-unconscious state.

He wanted nothing more than to help her, but he couldn't help her under a haze. He had started to realize that this problem was bigger than him; it was bigger than both of them. She needed help. She needed professional help.

He watched her until the sun started to rise, trying to decide what to do. He heard her start to move, a quiet moan, her head turning away from him, away from the light. He swallowed hard and he stood up next to the bed, leaning over her and steeling his resolve. "Liv," he whispered shaking her shoulder.

She turned away from him. "Go away," she whined at him, pulling her pillow over her head.

"I can't, Liv, get up," he said, pulling the pillow off her head and throwing it onto the floor on the other side of the bed.

She tried to focus on what was happening. Her head was throbbing with a pain behind her eyes that made them feel like they would pulse out of her head. Her whole body was sore and she just wanted to lay still and will the headache into her pillow. She didn't want to talk to Elliot…she didn't even want to think about what the hell Elliot was doing in her bedroom in the first place.

"Come on, Liv, rise and shine." He said, shaking her again, which honestly made her consider swinging on him.

"What do you want?" She whined at him.

"Come on, Liv. You've got to be at work in an hour."

"I'll be late." She said, rolling back over.

"Nope, you're getting up." He said.

"Jesus, Elliot, do you have to be so god damn loud?" She asked. She tried to piece together what had happened the night before. It wasn't the first time that things were fuzzy for her. She remembered bits and pieces, the bar, the shots. She didn't remember Elliot, or coming home, or how she had ended up in bed. She tried to remember but the harder she tried the more pieces flew out of her head.

"Consequences are a bitch." He said, "Get up," he commanded, pulling on her arm.

"Elliot, please, go away." She begged him, pulling her arm out of his grasp.

"No, we need to talk."

"I don't want to talk." She said.

"I want to know what you think you're doing." He said.

"What the hell do you care?" She spat at him, sitting up on the edge of the bed, rubbing her hands through her hair, closing her eyes to try to stop the spinning sensation that suddenly overcame her and made her stomach feel queasy.

"Obviously I care about you or I wouldn't still be here trying to save your ass." He said, trying to retain his calm, but feeling his voice starting to rise.

"I can handle myself."

"Do you remember last night at all?" He asked her.

"Of course," She lied, wishing she did remember.

"So you remember all the apologies and all the tears?"

"I'm fine, Elliot." She said.

"And at three am when I was carrying you to the bathroom so you could puke your guts out? Were you fine then?"

"No one asked you to come here." She said, not remembering whether or not that was true.

"I came here because I'm worried about you. Do you have any idea what it's like for me to watch you do this to yourself?"

"I'm sure you can handle it."

"God damn it Olivia. What's it going to take for you to admit you have a problem? Do you really have to be so cliché as to crash a car or get assaulted or end up in a hospital with alcohol poisoning? How many times do you have to see that every day? Do you really need that to be you?"

"Elliot," She said, taking a deep breath, looking at the floor. "I, I don't want to stop. I don't want to stop because it's the only way I know to deal with…this…feeling." She said.

"Let me help you get help." He said, looking into her eyes, pleading with her.

She looked away from him, staring at the floor for a few minutes. "You think I need it?" She asked, watching him warily.

He shook his head. "You're sick, Liv."

She bit her lip, and let her eyes sweep the floor again. "I'll take care of it," She said. "I know where to go."

From that night, he watched as her and it was as though she had managed simply to turn her fondness for alcohol off. He asked her how she did it and she shrugged at him. "I got help," was all she'd say. When they met for drinks, she drank soda. It was a rare occasion that he saw her drink a beer, and then, it was only one and never more. When they went to dinner, she sipped water, passing on anything offered to her with a smile. He surprised himself to the point where after awhile, he didn't think about that night anymore and those months of watching her self destruct seemed like nothing but a distant memory.


	5. Unexpected

_Two Years Later_

**Unexpected**

Olivia threw herself into her couch, turning the TV on and flipping through the channels. Two hundred channels of nothing flew by, and as she went through again with lower standards, she settled on a movie she had seen too many times. She embarrassed herself as she realized she actually knew the words before the characters spoke them. Her fingers were laced behind her head, as she absently played with her hair.

She heard a knock that sounded like it came from her door, but she dismissed it. She wasn't expecting anyone and she hadn't buzzed anyone in. Deciding it was actually someone next door; she ignored it and let herself drift back into the movie. But then she heard it again, more insistent this time. Frustrated at the knocking, she sat up, sure it was Elliot. He was the only one with a key who'd show up at her apartment door unannounced checking in on her like she was a child.

She stood up and walked to the door, rubbing the back of her neck as she tried to stretch the muscles out. She looked through the peep hole and couldn't believe what was on the other side of the door. Pulling back the chain and flipping locks she pulled the door open to expose Alex Cabot standing on her door step.

She stood, staring. "Alex," she whispered.

"I'm back." She said simply, shyly.

"How?" Olivia asked, afraid to move because if she did, she knew that Alex would disappear. She was sure this was a dream she had experienced too many times—Alex in front of her only to vanish as she rushed forward to wrap the blonde in her arms. But there she was. She was almost the same. Her hair a little longer, she was a little thinner, but her eyes were the same deep blue that Olivia found herself floating in so many times in her dreams.

"They got him." She said, her hands nervously intertwined, her eyes lowered to the floor. "I, wanted to, I wanted to let you know. I just got back and I didn't really have anywhere to go."

Olivia blinked, and then, slowly, reached her arm out to touch the woman standing in front of her. Her fingers gently made contact with Alex's arm, causing Alex's eyes to meet hers, and for Olivia to realize in a quick moment that the woman in front of her was not a dream, but a reality.

"Come in," Olivia said, realizing they were still staring at each other across her threshold. She moved back as Alex took an unsteady step inside.

"It looks the same." She said.

"I, I don't spend much time," she gestured, feeling her face redden for reasons she didn't fully understand realizing the words weren't necessary. "I missed you."

"I missed you."

"Are you really here?" Olivia asked, still afraid.

"I think so," Alex said with a shy smile. She took Olivia's hand and brought it to her face, kissing the tips of her fingers while Olivia stared with wonder.

"How long?" Olivia whispered, ready for the answer that would take this all away.

"Forever." Alex answered.

Olivia could feel the tears in her eyes. Behind her, she could hear a phone ringing. She looked behind her for a moment, taking Alex's hand and pulling her along as she reached for the phone. Flipping it open, she heard Elliot's excited voice. "She's back, Olivia, she's back."

Olivia looked up at the blonde woman whose hand she still held. "Yeah, I know." She whispered, letting the tears finally start to fall down her face, finally able to breathe again for the first time in two years.


	6. Appraisal

**Appraisal**

Olivia stepped inside her apartment slowly, sure this time that all the proof that Alex had come back would be gone, and she would be transported back to the time she was in love with a ghost. It had been fourteen days since she had returned, but every day she was sure that this would be the day that she would wake up and find out that it had all been a dream.

Checking each room slowly, she could see pieces of Alex lying around the apartment, just as they had been when she'd left that morning. Alex's coffee cup was still resting in the sink next to hers. The clothes she had worn to bed were thrown on the pillow. Alex's smell was in the air and her toothbrush sat next to Olivia's in the holder. Olivia smiled as she threw herself onto the bed, feeling both ridiculous and grateful as she smelled the scent on Alex's pillow.

Olivia walked into the kitchen, grabbing a beer out of the fridge; she popped the top and savored the first taste of it on her tongue. She knew that Alex would be arriving in moments. She felt excited and childish, waiting anxiously to see the attorney walk back into her sights. Their relationship was strange—there was nothing that could be normal about a relationship that had been put on pause for two years. There was a lot for them to re-learn about each other.

Alex was staying with Olivia until she could find a place. Olivia had offered her more—to stay with her in there for as long as she wanted. Alex had insisted she find her own place and move there. Alex wanted them to move slowly. After all, they hadn't been living together when Alex had left, and while every minute they had been apart, they had wished to be together, they wanted everything to be right.

Olivia could see why Alex didn't want to rush into anything. They had both learned that their time together would never again be unlimited like they had first believed, but they also knew that jumping head first into something would be a mistake, so they held themselves back. They were going to date, even if it killed them both.

Besides the impromptu living arrangements, even though both of their bodies had cried out for each other, they had managed to stay off each other. Olivia let Alex snuggle against her on the couch, holding her tight, and while she couldn't deny her definite sexual attraction, she had to admit that it felt amazing to hold Alex tight in her arms and talk to her without expecting anything more.

There were a million reasons they were perfect for each other. Physically, Alex did things for Olivia that she had never felt before. Something about the way she moved, the way she smiled, and the way their bodies melded together made Olivia's knees go weak and her mouth water. When they kissed, her heart pounded in her chest and she wondered how she had ever survived without Alex in her life.

They both shared a deep passion for their jobs. They both had a certain undeniable sensitivity for other people's pain and heartache. Both of them had the power to hold the other one close and empathize—something Olivia had found was a rare and treasured trait since not many could possibly understand. Alex knew her—she knew when to reach out and when to hold back. She let Olivia have her space and she pushed in when Olivia needed her.

And then, there were a million reasons they were different and it should never work out. Alex shopped in a grocery store that had a whole aisle that was composed of cocktail garnishes. She cooked real food and ate it--healthy food that included things like vegetables and whole grains. Olivia shopped at the little bodega on the corner that was run by a guy who carried every brand of cigarette and milk that was usually one day from being sour. Not that it mattered. If the instructions didn't include the phrase "add water and heat," it was probably beyond her culinary expertise. Alex saved the environment. She recycled. She returned cans, and kept a paper recycling bin by her desk. She saved files to her laptop to reduce the amount of paper she used and rarely printed anything she could find another way. Olivia was sure she had killed an entire rainforest in post it notes alone. She used paper towels for everything, including things she was pretty sure paper towels were not supposed to be used for. She only used them once and then threw them away. Sometimes, she even threw her soda cans in the regular trash, which Alex would pick out. Alex had no vices. She ran when she was stressed, and read to relax. Sometimes, she even cleaned. She never smoked, rarely drank, and ate carrots like candy bars. Olivia had a weakness for chocolate and still loved a cold beer after work.

Despite their differences, though, they seemed to work together beautifully. The two weeks had flown by like a dream, and they had started to fall into a happy rhythm.

Swallowing the last of the beer in her hand, she rinsed the bottle, and threw it into her own private recycling bin on the top shelf of her kitchen cabinet behind a box of year old Triscuts, where she kept the empty bottles until she could ditch them later. Pulling out a full one from the stash on the bottom shelf, she slid it into the empty spot in the fridge, and stared at it, making sure that it looked the same as it had before she had drank it. Impulsively, she grabbed a second, replacing that one, and then downing it quickly she disposed of that bottle. She stepped into the bathroom to brush her teeth. She wasn't sure why she hid the beer from Alex. It was only a few, nearly nothing at all. She wasn't really hiding it. It was right there in the fridge. And the case wasn't really hidden, it just wasn't sitting out. She guessed now it was just a habit. She wasn't smashed, after all. It was just one or two to relax. She hadn't been caught since that night two years ago when Elliot had confronted her and made her promise to stop, and for the most part she had. For the most part.


	7. Teased

**TEASED**

"Counselor," Olivia nodded to Alex as they stepped out of the interrogation room.

"Detective," She nodded back curtly as she turned on her heel and walked towards the exit.

Elliot watched as Alex walked away, and stared at his partner as she walked back to her desk and sat down, sticking her face in a file. There were many times that he had found himself called into an interrogation room to talk to Alex, and he'd be damned if he had ever come out of them looking like she looked now.

"So…" Elliot said, staring at Olivia over their desks. He leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms out over his head. Olivia kept her head down, ignoring him, as his eyes lit up with a twinkling hint of trouble. He watched her intently, smiling as her pen slowed and her eyes crept up to see if it his eyes really were boring into her. Without moving her head, she let her eyes look up and caught him staring at her. Letting her pen fall, she looked at him exasperated.

"What?" She asked, looking at him waiting for him to explain. They had way too much to do for him to be playing stupid games. She wanted him to get to work, so she could get home. The sooner she got off, the sooner she would get home, and the sooner she got home, the sooner she would see Alex again.

"How's it going?" He asked, with a grin on his face.

"Fine?" She asked more than answered, looking at him with a question in her eyes. "The jerk who filled out these forms left a lot blank. Oh, look, Elliot Stabler." She said, pointing to the signature at the bottom of the form. Putting her head back down, he laughed at her annoyance under his breath. She ignored him for a moment and then looked up at him again. "Why do you ask?"

"Just wondered," he said. "You know?" He asked, leaning back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head.

"Know what?" She asked, watching him warily.

"Well, you know, Alex is back." He tried.

Olivia could feel her face getting hot, but she refused to play this game with him. "Yep."

"Yep." He said parroting her, looking down at his paperwork. He slapped his pencil against his desk in an uneven rhythm; something he knew drove her crazy. He smiled to himself as she looked up at him.

"Could you cut that out?" She asked, while he pretended to have no idea what she was talking about.

"What?" He asked innocently.

"The pencil." She said.

"Oh." He said, suddenly stopping, putting it down in front of him. "So…" He said again, baiting her.

She looked up cocking her eyebrow at him. "We've got a lot of work to do."

"I know," he said, "I just wondered how it was going?"

"How what was going?" She asked again, stalling him.

"Alex." He said.

"She's fine." Olivia answered, putting her head back into her paperwork.

"Oh." He said. He reached forward and started pulling files out of his stack and moving them around. When she didn't look up, he started throwing them around dramatically until she glared at him.

"What are you doing?" She asked.

"Organizing." He said with a smile.

"You're wasting time." She warned him.

"I was just wondering."

"Alex?" She asked.

"Yeah." He answered. "How's it going?"

"Fine." She said, "I already told you that."

"What were you guys doing in the interrogation room?"

Olivia looked up at him wide eyed. "Nothing. I mean, we were going over case file."

"Your shirt's buttoned wrong." He said with a smile.

She looked down with panic on her face, her fingers ready to rearrange the buttons immediately.

"Made you look," he said with a smile.

"We're just friends." She said, pulling up to her desk. She should have known that Alex wouldn't have let her walk out of the room looking like she'd been doing what they had been doing. They were friends, that was true, but the benefits were amazing. Neither of them had taken time to define what they were, exactly. Horny for each other wasn't a relationship status. She loved Alex, and was willing to commit for life at first sight, but Alex insisted, demanded they be friends first. That had lasted nearly a whole week before they had begun lying in each other's arms, making out like teenagers. After two weeks, both of them were ready to explode. Their deep make out session ended with Alex snaking a line of kisses down her body and between her thighs. The interrogation room had started innocently enough. Alex stopping by, just to say hello, but they were still in that phase where they couldn't keep their hands off each other, and well, hello turned into…

"So what were you doing?" He asked.

"I have to testify tomorrow." She said, quickly.

Elliot laughed, leaning back into his chair with a smile on his face. "Which case?"

"Uh," She said, trying desperately to think of one.

"That's what I thought." He said. "So how's it going for you guys?"

"Fine," She said, looking up at him annoyed.

"Let me rephrase the question." He said, "Is there a surface of your apartment you haven't been naked on yet?"

"We're just friends." She said with a smile she was trying hard to repress on her face, as she shook her head and looked down. Now she could truly feel her face turning red as a series of images flooded through her head. Alex in the shower. Alex on the kitchen table. Alex up against the refrigerator door.

"So that was a no?" He asked, interrupting her thoughts.

"It was a no comment." She said, keeping her eyes down.

"A no." He said, nodding his head. "Now we're getting somewhere."

"That was a we're not discussing this now."

"So we can discuss this later?" He asked.

"No, we're not discussing this ever." She told him, finally feeling brave enough to look him in the eye. His smile made her blush all over again, which only let his grin grow wider.

"Discussing what?" Munch asked, walking up to her desk.

"Nothing." Olivia said quickly, trying to end the conversation quickly.

"Alex." Elliot mouthed to him.

"Young love." Munch smiled, leaning against the opposite desk and chuckling under his breath.

"Good Lord." Olivia sighed. "Can you guys just cut it out?"

"What have you learned?" Munch said to Elliot, ignoring Olivia all together.

"They've been very busy."

"Busy?" Munch asked.

"There are no more surfaces of Olivia's apartment she hasn't been naked on."

"Graphic." Munch said with a shake of his head.

"Elliot." She warned. "That's not true." She said to Munch.

"She didn't deny it." He said to Munch.

"I didn't affirm it either." She said to Elliot.

"Well what about Alex?"

"What about her?" Olivia asked.

"Are there any surfaces of your apartment she hasn't been naked on?" Elliot asked.

Olivia could feel herself burning. "God Elliot, you are obsessed." She said, staring down at her paperwork.

"You know we all live through you." Munch said with a smile.

"You didn't answer the question." Elliot said, redirecting her attention.

"No comment." She said, keeping her head down.

"Your face says it all." Elliot told her with a grin.

"Look, Alex and I are trying to keep things casual. We just want to reconnect without everyone being involved. We're not rushing into anything. We're just friends." She said, looking at both of them.

"But you're definitely friends with perks?" Elliot asked.

"Did I say there would be a question and answer period after I spoke?" She asked him.

Elliot smiled at Munch. "They're together." He said.

"Oh yeah." Munch smiled. "Definitely."


	8. The Confidant

The Confidant

Alexandra Cabot leaned back into her chair, letting a smile play on her face as the door to her office swung open and her childhood best friend strode into the room, in typical style, disregarding anything that had been happening in the room until he entered. He was tall, with a dark complexion and startling blue eyes. He could have been a model—he certainly had the ego, but since they had been five years old, the two of them had been together. Whether she liked it or not, Hugh knew her better than anyone else. While she had found herself in NY prosecuting criminals, he had found himself in NY selling his soul on Madison Avenue, writing ads to sell fast food and GAP jeans.

As kids, they had spent their summers together—been sent to the same private schools, and suffered through the same insufferable teachers. Best of all, both of them had realized early that they were both undeniably perfect for each other in every way. They were compliments, scamming together they were unstoppable. And best of all, they never fought over dates. While Hugh had fought hard for the heart of the head quarterback, Alex had valiantly done her part to woo her co-captain on the cheerleading squad.

As he threw himself down on her couch dramatically, he stared at her for a second, a smile spreading across his face. She was amazed with his ability to simply look at her and see right through her. Of course, she knew him well enough to do the same with him. With a wry smile he appraised her before asking the questions she knew he was dying to ask.

"How's Olivia?" He asked, adding syllables to her name that shouldn't be there.

"She's fine, Hugh. How's David?" She asked, returning the favor. David and Hugh had been partners for years. They adored each other—and she usually could distract Hugh with talk of his boyfriend, but the intensity of his stare told her today was not her day.

"Delightful." He said, pulling his feet up onto the couch. She shot him an evil glare and he laughed, kicking off his shoes. "Such a prude, Alex. I didn't come here to talk about me, though. You're the one with the excitement."

"I don't know about that. David is sweet." Alex smiled at him.

"David's been around for eight long years. We've done David to death. We're here to talk about you and your life."

"We're just friends," Alex said, looking down at the paperwork in front of her to avoid Hugh's eyes.

"Really?" He asked.

"I told you already. A year with no changes. That's what they told me. Do you know how many weeks I had to debrief before I could come back here?"

"Yes, Alex. You've told me. Several times."

"So we're going slow."

"Fine then," he said dramatically. "You're so boring."

"That's me. Boring."

"So then, how's the celibacy going?" He said with a grin.

Alex looked at him with a frown.

"That well, huh?"

"You always have to go right for the jugular. Don't you?" Alex responded.

"I told you that you were insane. I've seen you look at her." He sat up and looked at her for a second, a small smile spreading across his face. "Poor baby, you look so stressed." He said, with sympathy. Walking slowly across the room behind her chair, he let his hands fall onto her shoulders. He let his hands start to massage them, and she let her head roll back.

"That feels so good." She said, with a smile.

Knowing he had her just where he wanted her, he reached out his hand and slipped it into her collar. "That's a hell of a hickey, Alexandra." He laughed.

"Jesus." She said, pulling away from him.

"I know you too well. Turtlenecks were never your fashion statement." He laughed and she turned to smack him.

She rolled her eyes at him.

"So, I'll take it that Sister Maria would consider you fallen?"

Alex frowned at him again. "You had to bring that woman's name up? You know I still have nightmares about her."

Hugh laughed. "She was definitely something, wasn't she?"

Alex shuddered. "I don't want to think about it."

"So Olivia?"

"What about her?" Alex asked.

"And you wanted to be 'just friends' because?"

"I already told you. No major changes your first year back. Especially not relationships."

"So the people who killed you wanted to give you relationship advice?"

"It makes sense, Hugh. You should, you know, go slow."

"So you'll just fuck her for a year?"

"Jesus, Hugh." She whined. "I'm not…doing that." She said, refusing to repeat his crude assessment.

"Since when have you become a blushing flower?" He laughed.

"I'm not, I'm just…"

"You want to pretend that you'll only hold hands and talk about flowers?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "I'm not denying…"

"Alex. Admit it. You fell for her three years ago and you fell back into her arms three weeks ago when you got back here whether you wanted to or not. I can see it in your eyes."

"It's not fair to her. I'm not stable."

"Oh for the love of Christ, you're the most stable woman in America. Alex, even when you're unstable, you're stable. You love her. You want her. What's the problem?"

"That's the problem." She shrugged. "It doesn't seem complicated at all. I want her just as bad as the day I left. Two years went by Hugh. Our lives both went on. Things changed for both of us in major ways, but I come back, suddenly, and it's as though nothing has changed. She waited for me. We're catching up—there's two years to learn about—but we've fallen back into each other like nothing has changed."

"So, again. You love her, she loves you. Problem?"

"It's in my head." She sighed.

"Well, Alex, and understand I mean this in the nicest possible way, cut that shit out and go and get her."


	9. Addiction

Addiction

Dinner was intense. There was an undeniable electricity that filled the air between them—that had been filling the air between them each time they met since they had started being "friends." This time, they made it to appetizers before one of them threw money down on the table and both of them, engaged in a possessive glare forced each other out the door and into a cab.

The back of the cab was another turbulent ride as one of them choked out an address—sitting next to each other not speaking. Both of them stared out of opposite windows, knowing if they looked at each other it would all be over. A twenty fell through the cash drop of the cab for a five dollar fare, but before the driver could turn, both women were gone.

They had barely made it inside.

Her breath was already gone by the time she had blindly forced the key into the door. It gave and they stumbled inside until they hit a hard surface to hold them up. Their routine. Another late dinner. Another bottle of wine. Another day to their ambiguous relationship that ended in this frenzied passion that spilled out of both of them and defied any words or labels that they put on their relationship.

Olivia's body slammed into the wall as Alex pushed her backwards, hands roaming up and down her body. Putting her leg up under her and pressing into the wall, she pushed Alex back, catching her off balance taking control and crossing the hallway with a growl. She pushed Alex up and into the wall, a loud groan coming from her lips as Olivia pulled at her skirt. Frantic fingers fought against buttons and ripped at zippers.

The wine was making her head swim as sensations of lust flooded through her. The light buzz took away the moral ambiguity that came from not fully being sure that this was what they should be doing. In being friends, they had managed to cross the line. It was the line that she had been determined not to cross.

"What are we doing?" She mumbled, as she sucked on Alex's neck.

"If you don't know we're doing it wrong." Alex said, pushing her back, roughly pulling at her shirt.

Against every impulse in her body, she stopped Alex's hands. "No, no, stop," She whispered, as she let her head fall into the wall. "What are we doing?" She asked again.

Alex placed long slow kisses down her neck. "We're…" She managed, continuing her line of kisses eliciting a moan from Olivia. Her fingers slowly started exploring

Olivia took her hands and spun her around. With her hands firmly around Alex's waist, she whispered into Alex's ear. "I don't want to do this anymore. Like this."

"You don't want to do what?" Alex asked.

"Fuck." She said. She could see the red creep into Alex's face.

"I never heard you complain before." She murmured.

"I'm not complaining, Alex. I just want more. I want to be with you Alex."

"You are with me." She smiled, trying to turn around.

"I mean, I want to be yours. I want you to be mine." She said, catching Alex's blue eyes, trying to hold them. Olivia turned her head gently, "I love you."

"I love you too, Liv."

"I, I want more than this. I want an "us."

"There is an "us," Liv." Alex sighed, turning in her arms, pushing brown hair out of her eyes.

"But you said you just wanted to be…friends. To take it slow."

"Olivia, I'll never be able to go slow with you. I need you. I've always needed you."

"But you said…" Olivia stuttered.

"It's like I'm addicted to you." She said with a smile.

"So, I'm more than your friend?" Olivia said with a lopsided smile.

"You're the love of my life." Alex whispered in return, "And you've always known that." She said kissing Olivia deeply. This time, Olivia let the kiss deepen. Alex smiled at her as she walked her slowly down the hall and into the bedroom.


	10. Bravery

Author's Note: I am playing with the canon time line here with Alex being around for this. Theoretically, there are spoilers here for "Undercover". Work with me and all will be explained.

In the back of her head, Olivia replayed the conversations from earlier in the day. The dark eyes of Ashley Tyler reflected a hopelessness that she had seen so many times before. She had seen the same fear in the faces of so many victims, but never once had she felt the anger and hatred directed at her. Not as focused and direct as it came from this girl. It wasn't personal, of course, but it was the fear of authority. The badge she held, the symbol of authority that she prided herself on, was what made this kid afraid. This kid had already learned that anyone could be untrustworthy. She learned that those who were supposed to save you could let you down, and that protectors could be tormentors. They were lessons that Olivia knew she too had learned at too young an age. Olivia desperately wanted to prove to her that it wasn't always the case.

She suggested she go undercover because in her head, it was the only way. It was the only way to catch this bastard. It was the only way to protect this poor kid and get her rapist. She knew in her heart, deep in her heart, that this was how they would catch him. She knew she could do it; her safety wasn't her foremost concern. Her concern was finding this guy. A pinpoint focus had formed in her head. She could see only the end now, and her plan formulated around that goal.

She had begged and pleaded, finally getting Cragen to reluctantly agree. He didn't want to send her in; she knew that. She would show him that she was strong enough. Her only true obstacle now was convincing Alex.

Either way, it was already a done deal. But Olivia was determined to not let Alex know that.

She waited for Alex, feeling like a caged animal. When the door opened and the tired attorney stumbled through, dropping her leather case and stripping off her jacket, Olivia pounced on her. With a smile, Alex let Olivia push her up against the door.

Olivia wasn't using sex exactly. She felt aggressive. She felt the need to do something in a hopeless situation, and knowing that, in all likelihood, in the morning, she would leave for an unspecified time, wanting Alex and needing to touch her was like breathing. Of course, she still had to tell Alex her plans…

As she held Alex close, Olivia kissed her in all the right places, taking in her scent, tasting her skin. She was so beautiful. Olivia realized just how deeply she loved this woman.

Alex fell exhausted into Olivia's arms. "Jesus Christ, I don't know how you do that," she said gasping, laying her head onto Olivia's shoulder, her arm instinctively wrapping around her lover's naked body.

"Thanks," Olivia said simply, a big grin on her face.

Alex looked at her for a moment, catching the grin that lit up Olivia's face. "You going to get a big head?" Alex asked her, smiling placing a gentle kiss on her cheek.

"Nope." Olivia said, giving her a gentle squeeze. "I'm glad I can make you happy."

"You do," Alex sighed, cuddling herself as close to Olivia as she could.

"I'm glad," Olivia said, reaching for her lips, kissing her gently.

Alex pushed herself into Olivia, and cuddled closer to her warm body. "Love you," she said. Her eyes were starting to close, covered by the weight of the blankets and Olivia's limbs.

"Love you too," Olivia said, sounding far more awake. "Hey Alex," She said, shaking her body slightly.

"Mmm." She asked, trying not to outright dismiss whatever Olivia wanted to tell her.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Mmhmm"

"You know the case we're working? That 16 year old we found in the park last week?"

"The night you left me here all alone?" Alex pouted.

"Yeah." Olivia smiled at her play frown.

"I volunteered to do something today and I think we should talk to about it."

"OT?" Alex asked. Overtime was something Olivia agreed to all the time. Alex was used to it; dedication to her job was part of what made Olivia who she was.

"Sort of." Olivia said. "It's an undercover assignment."

"How long?"

"Not long." She said, though both of them knew she couldn't make that promise exactly.

"Where are you going?" Alex asked sleepily, still pulled into Olivia's body.

Olivia took a deep breath. "Sealview." She said, trying to sound as confident as she could.

"Oh, okay," Alex said, pulling herself into Olivia closer.

"You're okay with that?" Olivia asked, slightly surprised.

"Yeah. I mean, you know how to take care of yourself right. You'd be a good prison guard. You'll be cute in a uniform."

Olivia sighed. "Um, sweetheart?"

"It's okay Liv. You'll be good. Go to sleep, babe. I'm sleepy." Alex whined.

"Okay," Olivia said, putting her head back against the pillow. "But there's just one more thing. I'd be going as an inmate, not as a guard."

Olivia gasped as Alex suddenly pushed off of her chest and sat up in the bed, flipping on the light and staring at her. "You want to do what?" Alex asked incredulously.

"I can do this Alex." Olivia insisted, sitting up to adjust to the fact that Alex's body was no longer there.

"I have no doubt that you can do it, Olivia. I just don't think it's a particularly good idea." Alex said. "Sealview isn't exactly a day care center."

"Alex, I have to go. I'm the only one who can do it."

"You're going in alone." Alex stated rather than asked, shaking her head in disbelief.

"They're going to put Fin in too." Olivia said, with a shrug.

"What if something happens to you and he's not right there? He can't be with you all the time. Sealview is a women's prison, so unless Fin has a secret, he's not going to be an inmate with you."

"No, but he'll have contact with the outside."

Alex looked at her appraisingly. "This is a horrible idea."

"I need to do this." Olivia insisted. "A girl was raped, Alex. Her mother is being tortured. There are crooked guards in there. We need to find them. She deserves justice."

Alex looked at her with an evaluating stare. "I don't like it."

"But you understand."

"Understanding and approving are different." Alex said.

"I know."

"But I know you, and I know you're going to do it anyway."

"Not if you don't want…"

"Don't, Olivia. Don't say things you don't mean." Alex warned.

"I do mean it, Alex. I won't if you don't want me to."

"I don't want you to." She said simply, "But I know you."

"Alex," Olivia said, reaching for her hand .

"I trust you to know you can do your job. If you think it's safe, then I believe in you."

"Thank you," Olivia whispered. "This is something I need to do."

"I know." Alex said. "When do you go?"

"In the morning," Olivia whispered.

Alex sat still for a moment before reaching out and turning off the light. Laying back into the bed, she reached out and wrapped her arms around Olivia. "Then let's spend tonight together," she said, with a sigh. She closed her eyes knowing sleep wouldn't come, as she held Olivia close to her, listening to her breathe and praying for her safe return.


	11. Promises Made

Elliot stared at their evidence board, pictures of the crime scene in Central Park mingled with the new pictures that had just arrived from Warner's amended autopsy of Risa Tyler. Her body was stretched out, lying on a morgue table, the wounds on her neck enlarged to give a startlingly clear view of injuries she could not have inflicted on herself.

Lost in his own thoughts, he wondered about Fin's latest report. That all was at status quo—Liv was okay, and they were continuing as planned. He had made friends with a total slimeball—one that seemed particularly fond of giving Liv a hard time, but no more so than he enjoyed giving any of the women a hard time. Olivia had found a group to fit into—as best as she could--Elliot hated that he had been made inside the prison. If he went within a hundred yards of the place, the whole operation could be put in danger. It left him stuck with the second hand reports about his partner that weren't quite good enough. Not as good as seeing her for himself and reading in her eyes that she was okay.

Not knowing made it hard. It made him work harder on what he could do. The things that were falling into place outside the prison walls seemed to be happening so slowly, almost like walking in reverse. They were all reliant on the news being filtered through their inside sources and after nearly two weeks with nothing, all of them were frustrated.

He had always felt like Liv's big brother. It was his job to protect her. It was his job to look out for her, and now here he was. Outside. Not there for her. And her last whispered words to him, "Look out for Alex, 'kay?" played in his mind as he watched the blonde with a strange sense of apprehension. He was friends with her—they all were, but he had certainly never had an intimate conversation with her about her relationship with his best friend.

He could tell as Alex watched Olivia be handcuffed for her arraignment that she wasn't entirely sure of the decision that Olivia was making. She and Olivia just looked at each other, neither wanting a huge show of emotion in front of the assemblage of SVU detectives and the officers who would take Olivia, who would now be Katrina. They looked shyly at each other, Alex reaching out and letting a gentle touch run down Olivia's arm before saying her quiet goodbye. She had watched Olivia walk away and even though Olivia looked over her shoulder at Alex with a brave smile, Alex didn't seem reassured. Elliot watched as Alex turned her head and he looked away pretending not to notice when he saw the streaks of tears running down her face.

He felt like he knew too much about their relationship already. Sure, he teased Liv now, but it wasn't as though they had serious discussions about feelings. Both of them were too obtuse about emotions to actually discuss them. Instead he teased her, his way to show her that he cared about her, and she smiled at him and tolerated it, because it was her way of saying thanks. But it wasn't always that way. There had been too many nights he had sat with Olivia when she was blitzed out of her mind when she had told him things about Alex that he should never know. All the things that Olivia missed about her, from the way she smiled to far more intimate details about their sex life. So many times he had tried to stop her—to let her keep those intimate details to herself. He felt uncomfortable holding the memories that tortured her. Especially, since they were only so freely given under a haze of alcohol. There had been so many times he had held her while she cried. Olivia was his best friend and he knew what Alex meant to her. Far more than she meant to herself, sometimes.

It made it hard to look at Alex, who had a strange faraway look in her eye. Nothing was so off about her that someone who didn't know her would be able to put a finger on it, but Elliot could see it. Especially since he had seen the smile that had been on her face when Olivia had been there—after the two of them had been reunited.

He felt a gentle hand on his back, and he jumped. He turned around quickly to be faced with Alex. "Can I talk to you?" She whispered.

Alex walked into an interrogation room, Elliot behind her. "How's the case going?" She asked. Elliot knew he didn't have to ask which case they were referring to.

"Slow," Elliot said, truthfully, watching as Alex leaned herself against the table. He noticed for the first time how tired she looked.

"Have you heard anything, from her?" She whispered.

"She's okay, Alex." Elliot said.

"Have you talked to her?" Alex asked.

"None of us have. Except Fin."

"Oh." Alex sighed, leaning against the table. Elliot stared at her. He saw her, the same Alex he had seen so many times before, the same strong woman that he had never seen break. Only this time, he saw the pieces falling apart. She took a deep breath and steadied herself as her hand clamped down on the edge of the table.

For the first time, he actually realized how much this was affecting her. He knew Liv was lovesick, he had accepted it, but he never expected it from Cabot.

"If she could contact any of us safely, she would have contacted you." He said quietly. Her head snapped towards him as though she was surprised that he was standing there.

"I…" she started, finding that the words wouldn't come.

"She's going to be okay," he said, "Promise."

Alex smiled at him. "If you hear from her, you'll call me?"

"Of course," He said, watching as she walked away, wishing he could do more.


	12. Return

Fin's arrival in the basement signaled the end.

Immediately, it was the end of her attack. It was the end of her undercover assignment. It was the end of Sealview, and she promised herself she would not look back. The moment that Fin arrived was the moment that she was able to, even if only for a moment, able to take a modicum of control back over what had quickly become an uncontrollable situation.

Now, in the aftermath, while Fin wrapped a protective hand around her waist and led her out of the basement while Harris was led away, she was forced to process what had occurred. Each of the moments flashed through her head, and she pressed just as hard to push them out of her mind. Everything was fine. She was fine. Nothing had happened. What had almost happened was beside the point.

She was angry. Angry at what happened to Ashley Tyler. Angry at what had happened to her. She was angry at what she had seen and at what she hadn't been able to stop inside the prison gates. She was angry at herself for getting into the situation in the first place. What the hell had she been thinking? Where had her instincts gone? She had gotten so wrapped up in taking this guy down that she had forgotten the first rule—protect yourself. How stupid could you be?

She wanted to go home. Go back to her apartment and pretend that none of this had ever happened, but she had the sneaking suspicion that none of this would be that easy. She wanted to put it all behind her, prosecute the bastard and then move on as though nothing had ever happened. They had already informed her that Alex would not be prosecuting this one—not when the charges involved her assault. She was thankful for that. Even though she had left certain details about her own personal drama out of the police report, she didn't want Alex reading the file and obsessing over the details. She didn't want to share the whole ugly affair with Alex. This was something that she would keep inside her, one of the things she would hold onto and never share with anyone. She needed it to be that way.

Of course, they would have to talk about it. Some level of it. The idea made her nauseous.

Getting out of Sealview had been a relief, she was safe, now. It was bittersweet, though. The happiness was laced with the fact that the corruption there still existed. She may have been able to take down one of the guards, but who knew how many more were doing the same things as Harris?

She told them that he had tried to attack her. She left out details that she didn't want in the report. She couldn't stand that she pushed so many women to recall every detail, every moment, and then, when she was faced with the same situation, she was the one refusing to report.

Elliot sat in the room as she recalled the events. She watched as he got up, anger flashing in his eyes, and she watched as he returned five minutes later with bloody knuckles that he tried to cover. She couldn't stand Elliot looking at her like a victim and that's all she saw in his eyes now. He already protected her more than he should, and this would take it over the top. Telling him the rest of the story felt out of the question—his anger so out of control at the discussion of her physical assault she knew would be tripled with the further revelations of what had truly happened.

Driving back with Fin, she reminded him that nothing happened. He looked at her, the bruises on her face, having seen the bruises on her body, and nodded numbly. He had seen her on her knees in front of Harris. He had seen Harris' pants around his ankles. He knew that Olivia had faced more than a punch in the gut but he kept his mouth shut, letting her take control, trusting her to do the right thing. Trusting her to make the right choices.

Taking her to the hospital under Cragen's orders, her bruises were treated and the pain in her chest, a pain she knew to be a broken rib was confirmed by the doctor's x-ray. Fin returned with her to the station house, both of them giving statements.

Alex had met her there, tears streaming down her face when she saw the bruises on Olivia's face. Alex treated her like she was fragile. Every time she caught sight of the dark bruises than ran down the side of Olivia's chest, tears sprang to her eyes, and Olivia felt even less connected.

She didn't know what to or what to say to anyone. When Fin approached her, a week after she'd been back, after Harris had been arrested the second time, she was wary. "Let's go out." He offered.

She looked at him and considered the prospect of another night of Elliot staring at her or Alex tiptoeing around her, and agreed. Fin wrapped his arm over her shoulder as they found their way out the door. "Where do you want to go, baby girl?"

Olivia looked at him, and then back out at the street in front of her. She smiled at him, and stood up as straight as she could. "Let's go get wasted." She said, to him, and he smiled at her.

"That's my girl," he said.

Glad he was oblivious, she smiled at him. "First round's on you."

Fin smiled. "Of course."

"I need this." She said, absently, thinking about getting lost and forgetting everything.

"Need what?" Fin asked her.

"A night out." She said absently, knowing that's not what she meant at all.


	13. Cracking

Standing at the door to the bar, with Fin's arm wrapped around her shoulder, she smiled an easy smile. This is what she wanted. What she needed. The sound of ice cubes clinking into glasses triggered feelings in her that she had managed to keep in check for years.

She had kept herself under control—mostly. She had learned to drink alone. She had learned to keep it from the squad and found her own bar. When she went out with them, she would manage to hold back, and when she needed it, only when she craved it, she would find her away to her new hiding spot and let it all go. Not every day. Not like it had been, and not since Alex had returned. Alex had made things easier for her—now her drinking was saved for the nights when she couldn't get the images of the broken bodies out of her head. They were for the nights that she held Alex when the blonde woke screaming from nightmares—after Alex had fallen back into sleep and she was left, awake and alone with the demons dancing in her head.

This trip with Fin…this was the first time that she had the every intention of getting bombed out of her mind without any care that Fin was there and was on her squad. She knew the only one who would treat her like a teenager breaking curfew was Elliot. It was Elliot she had made her promise to stop. As long as he didn't know, she would not have broken her word.

"You, uh, sure about this?" Fin asked as they walked in, looking around. It was a dark bar, dingy lights and sports memorabilia along the walls--just like millions of other anonymous bars that dotted the streets of every city in every town—Manhattan no different than anywhere else.

"About what?" She asked, not looking back at him for a second. She walked directly through the room and directly to the bar, only looking around for a second, as though she already knew the place, though Fin was pretty sure that she had never been there before. In his stomach, he knew this wasn't the best idea. He remembered the Benson they had known when Alex had left—she had been depressed as hell, she drank too much, she looked like hell.

He had watched, knowing how it felt but not knowing how to tell her. He was better at saying nothing and being a silent presence. He was strong and silent and he respected that everyone needed to mind their own. He watched Elliot fight with her—the futility. He told Elliot to back off. All his ultimatums, all his threats, all of them were empty—his love for her making him unable to hold her responsible for her behavior even if he wanted to.

Fin wouldn't do that. He wouldn't put up with the shit that Elliot had. He knew that she would never put him in the position to. He did, however, see that she needed to talk. If she wanted to do it here…well, he would give her a chance. She had become a part of his family and he knew she was hurting. He could see it in her eyes.

"Nothin'," he said, as he signaled for the bar tender to bring them drinks. Olivia stared at hers, desperate to drink it. She was also desperate not to show that needy feeling to anyone else. Staring at it, she felt all the familiar feelings that had flooded through her when she had lost Alex, only this time, she had lost herself. She felt like she was losing her grip—becoming an emotional paraplegic as she tried desperately to numb the pain that she felt in her chest and she saw reflected in the eyes of those around her. The irony was not lost—she drank to forget the problems, but when she woke up in the morning, all those problems would still be there, hanging around her neck, just like they always had. It was humiliating.

"I thought you might want to talk," Fin said, staring straight ahead.

"I don't," she said. "Just want to drink and forget this whole week." She raised the beer in front of her and took a sip. The taste of it relaxed her—but at the same time created a delicious desperation for more. Her worry—a constant when she was drinking that she would run out—that somehow, there wouldn't be enough to numb her.

"I just, you know, I'm here for you." Fin said, refusing to make eye contact.

She smiled a sad ironic smile. "I know. Everyone's here for me."

"Have you…talked to anyone?" Fin asked.

Taking the beer in her hand and taking another slow drink, she put it back down on the bar and took a deep breath. "About what?" She asked.

"The Knicks," he said rolling his eyes. "Come on Liv."

"Nothing happened Fin." She said, automatically, a response he had heard her give to many times. The problem was they both knew the bitter lie that was laced in that simple statement.

"You and I both know better."

"Nothing happened." She said again. If she said it enough times, then maybe it would be true. She gestured to the bar tender, placing her order for something stronger.

"You really want to play this game with me?" He asked.

"I'm not playing a game. " She shrugged.

"I was in the room with you Liv. I saw you on your knees with his…"

"I don't want to talk about it, Fin." She said, cutting him off. Speaking the words out loud made them true.

"Did you at least talk to your girl?"

"There's nothing to tell her."

"Yo, Liv. I'm not gonna tell you how to live your life."

"Appreciate it." Olivia said, downing the shot that was slid in front of her.

"But you might want to think about talking about this. You can lie to what's in here," he said, pointing to his head, "but in here," he said, patting his chest, "we both know what happened down there. Pretending that nothing happened is going to drive you crazy. I know how much you love your girl. Don't mess it up with her because you can't get over your stupid macho bullshit."

For the first time, she looked at him. "I know, okay. I do the same job you do, I don't need the lecture."

'God damn stubborn,' Fin thought. Instead, he looked straight ahead staring into the wall and took a deep breath. "Cool," was all he managed.


	14. Nothing's Fine

Alex wasn't sure exactly what it was that caused her to wake up. Rubbing her hand over her face, she grumbled and turned herself over, reaching out for Olivia. She was surprised to find the bed empty and that she was alone. She remembered the phone call—Liv telling her not to wait up. She had tried to stay up, desperately wanting to be there for Olivia, but her eyes were closing and she had finally crawled into bed, telling herself that she would read, but knowing that as soon as her head hit the pillow, her eyes would close and she would be asleep.

Wondering if Olivia returning had been what had caused her to wake, she pushed herself up in the bed and whispered, "Liv?" but got no response.

She had a bad feeling, something wasn't right. She slid out of bed quietly and opened the bedroom door and then she could hear it, a muffled sound coming from the living room. Still quiet, she walked down the hall, turning around the corner she saw Olivia crumpled into a ball in the corner of the floor, her head on her knees, her arms wrapped around her legs. Alex could see but not hear the sobs that were wracking her body.

For a moment she was shocked, but quickly her body moved her into action. Falling to her knees in front of Olivia, tentatively she reached out her hand, touching Olivia's shoulder. Olivia jumped, scared, the wild look in her eyes scaring Alex more than the tears.

"What's wrong?" Alex whispered.

"No—nothing." Olivia stammered.

"Olivia," Alex whispered, reaching for her.

"Don't," Olivia warned pulling away. The look in her eyes was animal like—scared.

"Liv, what's going on?" She asked, quietly.

"It's okay, Alex. Don't worry about it." Olivia mumbled, pulling her legs tightly into her chest, tears flowing down her face. She thought for a moment about hiding the bottle in her hand, but she didn't care anymore.

"Baby," Alex said, reaching her hand out, trying to rub a tear from Olivia's cheek. She frowned as Olivia's whole body tensed at the contact which caused her to focus on the sound of the glass on the floor. The bottle clinked and Alex saw it in her hand.

"How much have you drank? " Alex asked quietly.

"Please don't touch me," Olivia said quietly, pulling further away from Alex, shoving the bottle behind her back.

"Why Olivia?" She asked. "What are you drinking?"

"I," she said, looking down at the bottle. "I don't know." She said, raising the bottle to her lips quickly.

"Olivia, stop." Alex said, easing the bottle down. "Baby, talk to me." She plead, desperate to make a connection with Olivia but afraid to touch her at the same time.

"I, I can't," Olivia stuttered.

"Yes, you can. I love you, Liv. No matter what. What happened to you at Sealview?"

"Nothing." She said, as she winced at the sound of the name of the prison.

"Then why are you drinking? Why are you on the floor crying?"

"I'm fine Alex." Olivia said, looking at the blonde for a moment and again taking the bottle from behind her back and taking a deep swig from it. She swallowed hard, wincing as the alcohol burned in her throat.

"You've got to talk to someone." Alex whispered.

"I'm fine."

"Olivia," Alex said, her voice both confused and worried. She tried to grab the bottle out of Olivia's hand, but Olivia managed to hold on to it.

"He...Alex. Alex, he, he tried to, he tried to," She said, tears managing to break up the words into pieces she couldn't choke out.

Alex sat flat on the floor next to Olivia. She held out her hand, not touching Olivia, but letting her make the choice. She watched for several minutes as Olivia sobbed into her knees. Choking on her own deep breaths, she coughed hard, a deep choking cough. Resisting the urge to touch her, Alex waited. Slowly, ever so slowly, Olivia's posture changed, opening gently. For every moment Alex stayed perfectly still, like a frightened dog, Olivia moved towards her, until after what seemed like an hour, Alex held a whimpering Olivia in her lap.

"Something happened in the basement, Allie," Olivia whispered, the first time she had spoken the words since she had left Sealview. "Something bad."


	15. The Morning After

Alex woke with a start when she felt the body lying on top of her move. The two of them were sitting on the floor as they had been for hours, Alex sitting up against the couch, holding Olivia in her lap. They had fallen asleep that way, well, Alex had fallen asleep, Olivia had more passed out. Alex had watched her sleep, clinging to her like she was a doll, holding her tight as if her embrace could keep her Olivia anchored and safe.

She never heard the words she needed to here. The babbled words Olivia had managed hadn't made sense, only pieces of a story that were jumbled up in Olivia's drunken mind. Olivia's head was heavy on her shoulder and her sobs had taken away her breath. Alex felt the tears running down her own face as she held Olivia tight.

Her eyes opened in time to see Olivia crawling away from her, barely making it to the trash can by Alex's desk before vomiting. Alex crawled after her, wrapping her arms around Olivia's back, holding her hair off her face. Olivia's whole body shook, her arms giving out as her retching stopped, her whole body collapsing into the floor.

Alex sighed. She hated to see Olivia in this position. Sure it was her own damn fault for getting so damn drunk to begin with—but why Olivia got drunk was still a mystery. Something she felt she could have prevented. Maybe if she had been better, been more vigilant, had tried harder, this drinking could be something that she could stop. She knew it was stupid to believe it, but she felt like if only Olivia would talk to her, just believe in her enough, that she could actually help make this better. But there they were, stuck the same way they had been, the communication between them boiling down to the simple words that Alex had already known. Something bad had happened to Olivia at Sealview. The only thing she could think of to do was be supportive.

"Come on, sweetheart," Alex said, urging her up, "let's get you to bed."

Olivia groaned but pushed herself up slowly and steadied herself as Alex helped her to her feet.

"You okay?" Alex said, holding her as she swayed unsteadily. Olivia nodded, her face looking a sickly green color. "You sure?" Alex asked, and before Olivia could answer, she pushed Alex away and ran down the hall, throwing the bathroom door shut and locking it behind her. Alex could hear her inside, the sounds of Olivia's gagging filling her ears and as she tried to pull the doorknob open to help her. But again, there she was, stuck hopelessly in another metaphor. She pressed herself up against the door, listening for signs of life, pounding with her fist, desperate for contact, "Come on, Liv, let me in, sweetheart."

"Alex, just go." Olivia groaned from inside.

"Come on Olivia, I'm worried about you."

"I'm fine, Alex." Olivia answered, her breath coming in heavy gasps.

"Please Liv, let me help you."

"Alex, please?" Olivia whined at her. "Just go."

Alex let her head fall against the door. What to do, what to do? Willing herself not to cry, she took a deep breath. "Okay, Liv. Love you." She said, with the strongest voice she could manage. "I'm right out here if you need me," she added, knowing, of course, that Olivia would not need her.

XXX

"Well what did she say?" Hugh asked Alex, who sat at her desk rubbing her temples. A throbbing headache was becoming her constant companion—her worrying about Olivia eating at her as it became as natural to her as breathing. After Olivia had sent her away again that morning, she had called Hugh—desperate for another opinion, any opinion that could explain Olivia's elusive behavior. She needed any opinion that didn't lead her to the conclusion that she had already drawn herself. A conclusion that was too damn terrifying for words.

"Something bad happened." Alex sighed.

"Well that could be anything." He said, with a shrug. He watched Alex with a wary eye. He didn't like the way she looked—her eyes were red and bloodshot, her whole posture was defeated. It wasn't like her. He had known her before he knew himself. He had seen her in lust and in love before, but he had never seen her break like this over anyone.

"I know that, Hugh." Alex said. "God damn it, I wish she's just talk to me," Alex said, feeling the tears threatening her eyes. She was determined to stop crying—to stop feeling so weak and helpless about this whole thing. She was a strong and independent woman. If anyone could help Olivia, she could. So why was it that watching Olivia the night before, drunk and broken on the floor in front of her, chattering and sobbing had left her without even a concept of what to do to help? The image in her mind made her swallow hard, a nauseous feeling settling in her stomach.

"Well, what happened exactly?"

"God, I don't even know." Alex groaned. She sat back in her chair, taking a deep steadying breath. "I told you already," Alex said, wiping at the corners of her eyes, trying to push back the tears. "I woke up and I found her. She was drunk; she didn't want me to touch her. She just kept telling me that something bad had happened at Seal view, but she wouldn't say what. She just kind of passed out on me."

"And this morning?"

Alex frowned at him. "She was hung over, Hugh. I have no idea how much she drank but talking to her about Sealview while threw up this morning seemed like poor taste. Not to mention that she didn't want much to do with me this morning either."

"No, I can see that. That's consequences. Maybe she didn't want you to see hers." Hugh said, leaning back into her couch. "Wasn't her mom some kind of raging alcoholic?"

"She drank. Liv doesn't like to talk about it." Alex said, quietly.

"Did she drink like this before, Alex?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "I mean, she drank, we all drank, but she's never been like this. She's depressed Hugh. She's so depressed. It's painful to watch."

"You know that stuff's genetic."

"You're supposed to be helping," Alex said, shooting him a look. "She's not an alcoholic."

"Put your claws back in," Hugh said, "Just making a point."

"She's not an alcoholic." Alex said again.

"All right, what about that guy she works with?"

"Stabler?"

"Yeah, tall, dark, and brooding. He still married?" Hugh smiled, making her grin in spite of herself.

"He has six kids. Not gay and you're committed." She reminded him.

"Window shopping," Hugh smiled.

"You're such a man whore." She mumbled and he laughed his face straightening as hers did. "I don't know if she talks to him. She talks about Elliot. You know Hugh; I pulled that damn DD-5. I've read it a hundred times. I've read her statement and Fin's statement. I've seen pictures of the whole scene and nothing that happened down there explains why she flinches when I try to touch her," she said, feeling the tears running down her face.

"Maybe there's something that's not in the report."

"I know there is." She sighed, slamming her fist onto her desk in frustration. "When she came home from there, and those bruises, she, she was hurt. There were bruises all over her, I understood, but Hugh, she won't let me touch her, at all." She said, emphasizing the last two words to highlight the unspoken meaning she didn't want to directly relay. "When we, when we," she stuttered, Hugh nodding his head for her to continue, "she pushes my hands away. God, Hugh, she was there investigating a rape. What the hell am I supposed to think when we're together and she doesn't want me to touch her."

"You're jumping to conclusions." He said, raising his eyebrows at her.

"Tell me that they're irrational!" She yelled at him.

"Al, come here," Hugh said, patting the couch. He watched as, covering her face to hide her tears, she pulled herself around the desk and collapsed next to him. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and let the tears stream down her face. "It's going to be okay, hon." He said, letting his fingers run over her head.

"I'm sorry," she whispered to him, "I'm sorry I'm like this."

"You don't have to apologize, Alex. Call her, set up a date for tonight. Talk to her. Maybe when she's sober, it'll go better."

"Maybe," she said her eyes foggy and distant as she tried to piece together what the hell was happening to her.


	16. The Talk

Alex leaned back into her chair as she contemplated the words that were floating around her head. They needed to talk about the previous night. They needed to talk at all. Anything would be an improvement over the shallow pleasantries they were exchanging to avoid what was flowing under the surface.

Alex watched Olivia as she stared absently into the plate lying in front of her on the table. Her fork attacked the pile pasta, more moving it around in circles than actually eating it. Alex wanted more than anything to just get into Olivia's head. She wanted to take away some of the weight that she saw behind her brunette eyes and help her carry her load. Looking across the table, she was hesitant to talk—hesitant to break the silence, as she knew that once she brought it up, Olivia's entire mood was apt to change. Olivia looked tired, not distraught like she had the previous night, but she knew what had to be done and she prepared herself with the words.

"We need to talk," echoed through the air.

The words, quietly whispered across the dinner table, stopped the silence and at the same time dropped a bomb on Olivia's sensibilities. Everything about this night had gone as it always had. Their routine was followed exactly, their conversation light and thankfully surface level.

Olivia had known it was coming, knew it was only a matter of time before Alex tried to pin her down to open a dialogue about the one topic she was adamantly opposed to sharing. She knew they had to talk about the night before, but when Alex came home, and didn't immediately address it, she thought perhaps she might get away with never explaining and that would have been fine by her, so the words that formed on Alex's lips were particularly sharp and unwelcome.

"Olivia," Alex whispered again, as Olivia let her eyes fall onto the blonde and focus. Her pulse pounded in her ears as she tried to act nonchalant as she looked back down into her plate searching for words that her mind was denying her.

"Yeah?" She answered, swallowing hard.

"We have to talk about what happened last night." Alex said, reaching her hand across the table to take Olivia's trying not to flinch as her hand pulled away.

Olivia found herself taking a deep breath. "Nothing happened, Alex. It was just a long day." Olivia sighed.

"You said something bad had happened." Alex stated simply.

"Nothing in particular. Just the same old stuff, okay? I was just tired Alex, can we drop it?" She begged, wanting both for the conversation to stop and for her to be able to open up and tell the truth about what was truly bothering her.

"We need, I need for you to talk about it Olivia. You've been acting strange since you came back from Sealview. You're scaring me."

'I'm fine Alex, just drop it."

Olivia felt as though her back was pressed into the wall as Alex looked across the table at her expecting more than the only answer she wanted to give. Expectation crushed down on her. Her breath was starting to come faster, her pulse speeding as she felt the pressure increase. Suddenly she felt the need to escape, as though she were a wild animal caught in a trap.

"Olivia, please."

"Alex, I have to go," she said, pushing back away from the table.

"Olivia , no." Alex said, standing. "We need to talk about this. It's not going to go away."

"I have to go," she said, nearly gasping for air. She needed to get out. She needed to stop the conversation, the pictures flashing in her mind. She needed to stop, she needed everything to stop. Alex simply studied her, her face switching from a calm cool collected look to seeing the wild panic flash in her eyes. "I'll be back," She whispered as she scrambled for the front door.

"Olivia, please," Alex said, a few steps behind, but not fast enough to stop Olivia from grabbing her wallet and keys that were always conveniently left by the door in case she needed them in the middle of the night. The door slammed shut behind her and Alex let her head fall into her hands.

Alex flopped down onto the couch, tears starting to streak down her face, as she stared into the void of the empty TV searching for answers that were not going to come.

Olivia, however, was left searching for oblivion.


	17. Oblivion

By the time Olivia found herself stumbling home in the cold New York air, she had already stopped at a bar and started a familiar ritual.

She hadn't started out to find a bar—it was more as if the bar had found her. Discovering herself in the familiar surroundings, the first drink went down easily. There was a certain comfort in being surrounded by strangers. She let her chin rest on her hand and she studied the grain in the wood of the bar. Tracing it with a finger, she took a deep breath and tried to clear her mind.

All she wanted was an escape. It wasn't too much to ask—not with everything else she had been through. Not with all the things that she had seen. Maybe this hadn't been her plan but it was the best she could come up with.

She wanted to forget fighting with Alex. She wanted to forget the blonde's tear stained face; she wanted to forget everything that had happened and to be the same Olivia Benson she had been before Sealview.

She couldn't go back to Alex now. Now that she was sitting alone waiting for an absolution that wouldn't come. She tapped her glass lightly while watching other people engage in social conversations. Instead, of letting go, she let the familiar guilt and pain well up inside her. Threatening to overwhelm her, the second drink helped to tap down the emotions and behind a fake smile, she nodded when the bartender offered to refill her glass.

She had messed up—it was that simple. It was her fault that the confrontation with Alex had ever started. She had made a mistake of telling Alex that something bad had happened. It was something she never wanted to admit. Not to Alex and certainly not to herself.

More than anything she wanted the feelings to go away. She wanted the pain to stop, her mind to blank, and for the world she faced to entirely disappear. As she snuck back into her apartment, she crossed the kitchen, pulled herself up on the counter, and recovered a bottle from the top of the cupboard that was partially hidden. Hating herself for having it, and hating herself for not having enough, she stared into the bottle and sighed as she tipped its clear contents into a glass.

Slumping onto the couch, she downed another shot. "That's to you, Alex" she thought bitterly. She was angry at the blonde for making the feelings reappear. With a considerable amount of concentration she focused on pouring another shot. Pouring wasn't really the word for it anymore; sloshing was more an appropriate description. She watched as precious alcohol slid down the side of the glass and started to puddle on the coffee table. She knew she had already gone too far but she didn't care. She felt dangerous and way beyond rational.

Without meaning to, she let her eyes close. Immediately it flashed in front of her-she saw herself on her knees, felt his hand in her hair forcing her body into his. She heard his laugh, felt his power, and knew she was helpless. She knew she couldn't stop it. She couldn't get him out of her head. For that, there was another drink.

Part of her wanted to run to Alex and tell her everything. She wanted to come clean, feel the secret stripped from her and shared. She wanted to be able to feel it fall from her shoulders, but that was the problem. She was a soldier, and no matter what, she was supposed to hold up the weight of the world.

That calls for another shot.

Her throat burned as she swallowed. Staring down into her hand, she decided the glass was an unnecessary reminder that she was way beyond her limit. What difference did it make how many she had? Was anyone counting anyway? The difference between five and seven was moot anyway. Her hand shook as she pushed the offending glass aside, smiling as she heard it clink onto the floor. Instead, she picked up the bottle and swigged.

She can hear the things she's heard for a lifetime. All the training. All the education about alcohol awareness. She can hear Elliot's voice telling her she needed to stop. Well, she would have stopped, at least she would have had it really been a problem. Remember what it did to your family, remember what happened to your mother. Remembering burned and the alcohol put out the fire.

A tear rolled down her cheek, but she immediately pushed it away. She would not cry. Not now and not ever. Instead, she resolved to remain tough and with that, she took another drink.


End file.
